


The Conference

by Requin



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, First Time, Love me some tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 16:05:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requin/pseuds/Requin
Summary: Ric Griffin plays Cupid.





	The Conference

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [TheProdigalSapphist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheProdigalSapphist/pseuds/TheProdigalSapphist), who came up with 90% of this fic.

As she crams herself at the back of Bernie’s ridiculous sports car, Serena decides to blame Ric. He is in the passenger seat because he’s giving Bernie directions, and he looks far too pleased with himself. Serena huffs, rearranges her legs and tries not to make it obvious that she is sulking, because she is a grown woman with an important job and not a 5 year-old. 

The car starts, and they are on their way. Serena tries to look anywhere but at Bernie’s slender hands on the wheel, at Bernie’s thighs and the muscles there as she brakes and accelerates, at Bernie’s wrist when she changes gear. Serena has never realised how sexy women were at the wheel, and especially not how devastatingly attractive Bernie is while in control of a vehicle. She wonders what she must have been like in a tank, and blushes when she feels a tendril of desire curl low in her belly. Damn these feelings, damn that kiss, damn Berenice bloody Wolfe and her misplaced insistence on saving their friendship, and most of all, damn Ric Griffin. 

The time post-“let us say no more about it”-conversation, has not been easy, Serena reflects as they zoom along the motorway. Serena doesn’t really know what the etiquette is in this situation. She scoffs quietly at the idea of a manual, “How to Act Around your Best Friend when You Are Wildly and Desperately in Love with Them: 12 easy steps” and she sighs at the stilted conversations, the careful, professional interactions of the last few days. They only talk about work. Albie’s is a no no. Serena misses Bernie dreadfully even though they see each other every day. Sometimes she thinks there’s a sparkle in Bernie’s eyes when she looks at her and nobody else, but it’s probably wishful thinking, and those moments are fleeting. 

The reason why they are here, at an ungodly hour in the morning, on their way to Birmingham, is sitting in front of Serena. Serena still isn’t sure if he engineered all of this to mess with her or if there’s a genuine surgical conference waiting for them. “The board approved it, and with the Trauma bay, you’re their choice,” he’d said with an infuriating smirk. And of course, because Bernie was in the room, Serena couldn’t very well check if he was playing Cupid or not. 

Serena closes her eyes and lets the hum of the car lull her. It’s only for one night. What can possibly happen in one night? She can behave, she can lie and keep her hands to herself and try to respect Bernie’s wishes. 

“Oh, turn it up Ric! I love ABBA!” Bernie says suddenly with a smile. 

It’s Bonnie Tyler. Serena chuckles. She can’t help it. Bernie’s smile is contagious and Serena is so, so in love with her. 

Ric laughs and corrects her, but he turns the volume up anyway and Bernie sings off key all the way to their hotel. 

 

“What fresh hell is this, Ric?” Serena asks in a very dangerous voice. 

Ric puts his hands up in defence, but he still has that smirk on, and Serena wants to kill him. Slowly. She thinks of all the ways she could do it, of all the fragile arteries pulsing under his skin, as they get into the lift. 

“It’s not my fault they messed up! I specifically booked three rooms. You’re more than welcome to bunk with me, Serena,” he says sweetly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Serena looks at Bernie, who’s trying to look very cool and unaffected, but she’s blinking an awful lot. 

“Oh, please. You snore like a truck driver. We’ve shared an on-call room,” Serena snaps. 

“Then you’re with the Major,” Ric says in a sensible tone. 

Bernie blinks some more. No help there. Serena rolls her eyes in a huff. 

“Fine. You better be silent as the grave, Berenice,” Serena bites off. 

Bernie nods quickly, and Serena could swear her cheeks are a little pink, but the lift pings and they walk to their respective doors. Ric has a definite swagger, the cheeky sod, and winks at Serena before he enters his room. Bernie opens their door and suddenly they’re alone, and the bed looms ominously next to them. 

“Right, well, here we are. We can’t dilly dally, we have our first workshop in ten minutes,” Serena says, her heart hammering in her chest. 

Bernie nods again, apparently rendered mute by the whole thing and they put their bags away and are back out in a flash. Serena stares right ahead when they take the lift again, tries to think about anything but sharing a bed with Bernie. 

“I’m looking forward to the trauma workshop,” Bernie finally says after a few awkward seconds, and it’s all very reminiscent of the ride they shared after their kiss. 

“Me too. Some interesting new laparotomy techniques,” Serena replies, the tense coil in her belly slowly dissipating. 

She likes talking about medicine with Bernie, likes practising it with her, enjoys her work, admires her skills. They’ve spent happy hours in theatre together, kiss non withstanding, and they do make a great team. They talk about a surgery they did recently as they walk towards the conference room, almost back to their normal selves, when they enter the room and stop in their tracks. They’re a little bit late so there are people there already, and for some bizarre reason everyone is in pairs. 

“Ah! You must be our surgeons from Holby! I’m separating colleagues for this exercise, so if you could just find someone, please,” says a woman from the front. 

Serena rolls her eyes, waves adieu to Bernie and finds herself an innocuous looking man who introduces himself as Steve from Manchester. She sees that Bernie has paired off with a pretty brunette who smiles brilliantly at her, and Serena can feel a hot pulse of jealousy creeping up in her chest. 

“Alright, so that’s everyone then! If you could turn to your partner and demonstrate the following procedures, and…” Serena tunes out a little, because the brunette has put her hands on Bernie and is blushing and smiling and looking entirely too smitten with her Major. She follows the other woman’s hands with her eyes as they touch Bernie’s neck, almost growls when they pause at her shoulders and then her lips purse into a snarl when they touch Bernie’s sternum to show where the incision would go. Steve takes a step back, alarmed. 

“No, no, do continue Steve,” she says sweetly, barely paying attention. 

Bernie looks very uncomfortable, and the brunette is definitely enjoying herself now, one of her hands is on Bernie’s waist, and Serena wonders if it would be appropriate to shove her away and take her place instead. Thankfully the exercise is short and they move on to other things, but the image of someone else touching Bernie stays with her until lunch, and then throughout the afternoon. 

She’s got it bad, Serena admits to herself. 

Dinner is taken in a bland dining room and the food is mediocre, but the wine isn’t half bad and Ric is off flirting with a woman from Derby, so Bernie and Serena are left to socialise with the people at their table. It’s pleasant conversation, but Serena is a little distracted by the deep forest green shirt Bernie is wearing. It’s open at the collar and Serena can see her collarbones peeking out. Even in the harsh light, Bernie looks beautiful. She’s in those skinny black jeans again, and her hair is pinned up, leaving Serena the chance to gaze at the pale column of her neck. She can almost taste the skin on her tongue, and she squeezes her thighs together to try and release the tension building between her legs. She feels flushed and uncomfortable, watching Bernie sip her wine, and she only looks away when Bernie suddenly glances at her with very dark eyes. 

The post-dinner mingling is helped by the well-stocked bar. Bernie doesn’t not leave her side. They move from circle to circle, network, and even meet a few interesting people, but Serena only has eyes for Bernie. They are pressed together at the bar, from shoulder to hip, and Serena can feel the heat coming off Bernie’s body. The awkwardness from earlier is gone. 

“Oh, look at this,” Bernie says with a tilt of her head. 

Serena turns and sees Ric in deep conversation with a woman at the back of the room. They are standing very closely together and are both smiling. Serena laughs. 

“He is so predictable. Dangle a pretty thing in front of him and he just can’t help himself.” 

“You think she’s pretty?” Bernie asks very casually. 

Serena looks at her, heat pooling low in her belly. She knows when she’s being flirted with, she wasn’t born yesterday. The wine is making her a little reckless, so she smiles and flutters her eyelashes. Bernie blushes. 

“Well, she’s not the prettiest one here,” she says, her honesty surprising her. 

Bernie laughs, her eyes full of mirth and delight, and it does feel good not to censor herself, Serena thinks as she sips her wine and watches how Bernie’s fingers cradle her glass.

“Why, Ms Campbell, I think the wine is going to your head,” Bernie says with a smirk. 

Serena’s eyebrow rises, and she leans forward, making sure Bernie has a good view of her cleavage. She changed into that top especially. 

“Who said it was you?” She whispers into Bernie’s ear. 

Bernie puts a hand on her forearm and chuckles. She smells of soap and a hint of something spicier. The rest of the room disappears. 

“It’s obviously you, Serena,” Bernie whispers back. 

Serena lets that delicious statement wash over her, knows she is blushing, feels her limbs tingle with expectation and want. She hasn’t felt like this in a very long time. She’s about to speak again when Ric saunters into view, his smirk evident when he sees how close together they are standing. 

“Alright ladies? Having a good time?” He asks after he orders a refill. 

Serena shoots him a dark look full of warning. 

“Oh, maybe not as good as you. Who’s the lucky lady?” Bernie retorts, unfazed. 

“A cardiothoracic surgeon from St George’s. She has very interesting views on the NHS.” 

“Oh, I bet she does,” Bernie replies with laughter in her voice. 

She has a very attractive smile on her lips that Serena longs to kiss away. Ric tips his glass towards them, collects another from the bartender, and leaves them to go back to his own flirting. The air is suddenly much denser, and there is a bit awkwardness when their eyes meet again.

“So, uh, you think Hanssen will let us get any of the shiny new machines we saw this afternoon?”

Serena smiles, recognises the question for what it is, a chance to move past what was said before Ric interrupted them. And now that Serena thinks about it, Ric interrupts them quite a lot. 

“Well, he might find space in his budget if he’s presented with a united front,” Serena replies. 

There is a definite twinkle in Bernie’s eyes. It’s makes her look 10 years younger and radiant. Serena smiles, scoots a bit closer, and their sides are touching again. 

“We do make a good team,” Bernie says over the rim of her glass. 

Time stands still for a moment and Serena stops breathing, hoping against hope that this is it, that this is where they decide to address the gigantic elephant in the room. The air crackles. 

“We do. In theatre and outside of it,” she says cautiously. 

Bernie dips her head. There is a moment of silence where Serena drains her glass and puts it carefully on the bar. A man bumps into her and she steadies herself on Bernie’s shoulder. She hears Bernie gasp and they stay like this, bodies flushed. There might be other people around them, but Serena feels like they are in their own little bubble, tucked away at the side of the bar.

“Yes. In and out. You’re my best friend, Serena,” Bernie says very seriously. 

Serena nods, takes a step back, breathes in slowly. ‘Come on Campbell,’ she thinks to herself.

“And you are mine. You have been so… so considerate of my feelings, and I thank you for it,” she says carefully, giving every word the meaning and the weight it deserves. 

She can see Bernie steady herself, and her eyes are darker and she knows that they understand each other. The wine is helping with the words, but she’s been thinking this for weeks and it needs to come out now or she’s going to combust. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this,” she says slowly, and she puts a hand on Bernie’s arm. “And I want this, Bernie. Us, I mean. I want to try it.” 

Bernie looks up and her eyes bear into hers, dark and intent. 

“You… you do? Serena, I’m, uh, I mean you probably know but I’m hardly, hardly a catch, and we’re such great friends, and you deserve…” Bernie starts babbling and the words come pouring out, and she’s probably been thinking about this as much as her, Serena realises with a happy jolt.

She slides her hand up Bernie’s arm, and is so close to her now that it’s verging on inappropriate. She feels Bernie inhale sharply and the arm under her hand trembles. She tries hard to focus on what Bernie said, and it’s hard because she’s so close, but it makes sense. Bernie doesn’t see herself the way Serena does, that much is obvious. She might be biased, but when Serena thinks of Bernie, she thinks about bravery, kindness and beauty. She’s not sure Bernie would agree with her, judging by the troubled look in her eyes. 

“You’re right. I do know you, and I want this. I really do,” Serena says firmly.

Bernie puts her hand on top of Serena’s, her thumb caressing the knuckles, and Serena can’t help the hot stab of pleasure that sneaks up her belly. 

“Serena…you deserve so much more than me. I’m… my life is all over the place,” Bernie whispers, her eyes a little wet, and it breaks Serena’s heart. 

She leans forward, their foreheads almost touching. She can feel Bernie’s breath on her chin. 

“I don’t care, Bernie. We all have our history. But this… this is too important to pass by,” she says softly, her hand squeezing. 

Bernie smiles, her eyes hidden behind her fringe. Serena feels much lighter, hopes that Bernie got it, understands that the issue won’t be resolved tonight, but that it’s a start. 

“I think,” Serena continues, her voice low, “that we should continue this upstairs.” 

Bernie really looks at her this time and Serena gasps at what she sees there. If looks could burn, Serena would be a pile of ashes. She gulps, pulse sky rocketing, and slowly leaves the bar, pretty sure everyone can see what she’s thinking.

She reaches the lift, waits a minute and suddenly Bernie is besides her, their shoulders touching, and Serena jumps when the lift doors open. They get in without a word, the sounds from the bar receding, and it’s just them, finally. Serena shuffles a bit, reaches blindly, and hooks a finger onto one of Bernie’s and she smiles when she hears the other woman take a deep breath. They might be barely touching but they are having sex right now, Serena thinks, the anticipation making her jittery. 

They get to their floor and Serena reaches into her pocket for the room key. Drops it. Tries again. Bernie crowds her against the door, her hand on Serena’s hip, and Serena’s hands shake, but she manages to get them in. 

The room is dark and quiet, but Serena doesn’t have time to wonder if they should turn on a light, because Bernie pushes her against the door and they are kissing. Serena has been kissed before, but this, this is something else, Bernie’s cradling her face and their mouths open and Serena thinks she might come at the first touch of Bernie’s tongue. She whimpers, remembers she has hands, and sinks them in Bernie’s hair, her movements suddenly frantic. She wants to touch everything at once, wants to stroke and lick and… even bite maybe? The thought makes her gasp. 

Bernie is whispering against her lips, and Serena tries to pay attention. 

“You are so beautiful, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I can’t believe I let you go, you are so soft.” And on it goes, words of devotion as Bernie kisses her jawline, her cheekbones, her neck, and at her pulse point Bernie uses her teeth and Serena lets her head fall back against the door. Her whole body is alight, vibrating with want and need, and she doesn’t think she’ll last very long, especially when Bernie slips a thigh between her knees.

“Oh, god, Bernie, take this off,” Serena moans as she paws at Bernie’s shirt. 

Bernie hums in their kiss and they get a little distracted, but they manage to remove Bernie’s shirt and Serena latches on to her neck. They stumble backwards until they hit the wall next to the bed. Serena can’t believe how soft Bernie’s skin is, she can’t get enough of it. She licks a trail from Bernie’s shoulder to her jawline and Bernie keens and her hips buck and Serena wants to do this forever. Her hands shake as she skates them along Bernie’s sides, she swipes her tongue under Bernie’s ear, drinks in Bernie’s moans. 

“Serena, Christ, Serena,” Bernie whines as they grind together. 

The words and the tone make Serena throb and she just can’t take it anymore, she needs to feel Bernie against her, she goes to take her top off but Bernie bats her hands away and hooks her fingers under the hem, pushes upwards, and Serena waits for the judgement. 

“You are perfect. My perfect Serena,” Bernie says and she sinks to her to knees. 

Serena gasps at the sight, feels her knees shake, reaches for the wall for support. Bernie wastes no time in taking off her trousers and there Serena stands, breathing in shuddering sighs as Bernie kisses her way up from her calves. She feels every touch, and when Bernie licks the back of her knees, she throws her head back and cries out, her mind blank but for the pleasure she feels building in her belly. When Bernie reaches her thighs, Serena’s legs give out and she sinks into Bernie’s arms and they lie tangled on the floor in a heap of limbs. 

“Ok, ok, bed, come on, we’re not teenagers anymore,” Serena says after a while, her lips swollen and her neck sporting a nice collections of bruises. 

Bernie laughs and they flop on the bed, Bernie between her legs and it feels magical to hold her, to have her weight on top of her. She can’t stop running her hands up and down Bernie’s back, moans when she feels the muscles contract under her hands. She manages to undo the button and the fly of those sinful jeans. They end up on the floor. 

“Are you sure, Serena? Really sure?” Bernie asks breathlessly in her neck.

Serena laughs. She takes Bernie’s hand and slips it in her soaked underwear and Bernie closes her eyes, bites her lip. 

“Jesus,” she breathes out. 

“All for you, Major,” Serena whispers hoarsely. 

Bernie kisses her so hard she sees stars and has to wrench her lips away to breathe. She is so ready to come that her whole body is trembling. Bernie seems to sense that, like she seems to get everything about Serena, and she trails kisses down her body, nips at her breasts, sucks her nipples, licks down her belly, all the while kneading the flesh of her thighs. Serena moans and thrashes, her hands in Bernie’s hair, and then Bernie is between her legs. Bernie looks up and her eyes are black. They smile at each other. 

“I love you,” Bernie says softly. 

“Oh, me too darling, so much,” Serena says and she can feel tears prickling her eyes. 

Bernie kisses the inside of her thighs, gently at first and then, as if she can’t help herself, she sucks and bites and Serena cries out, her knees up, her hands buried in Bernie’s glorious hair. She thinks she can’t take more, but Bernie slips two fingers into her and starts sucking and Serena shouts, actually screams, and her head slams into the pillow. In no time at all she’s curled on herself, hugging Bernie’s head against her stomach, her whole body shaking, coming in great gasps. She feels ripped apart, reborn, and she cries in Bernie’s arms. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispers, feels it in her bones. 

Bernie kisses her, her body hot and trembling, and Serena slips a thigh between her legs, gasps at the wetness coating her skin and Bernie arches her back at the contact. The view she gives Serena is breathtaking, all lean muscle and flat, smooth expanses of skin, and her hands palm Bernie’s thighs, her hips, knead her sides, trace Bernie’s scar reverently and then finally, after just yanking her bra down, Serena gets to touch Bernie’s breasts. It’s different, there’s no denying it, but she’s so soft, and the sound she makes as Serena rolls a nipple between her fingers is the hottest thing Serena has ever heard, it makes her squirm, and that provides even more friction and Bernie cries out, her eyes wild, her hands braced on Serena’s shoulders. 

“Serena, god, please, please,” Bernie says brokenly, her hips moving back and forth. 

There was only one course of action possible after hearing that. Serena puts a hand in Bernie’s hair and tugs, kisses her hard, and without thinking too much about it, brings her other hand between Bernie’s legs, and gasps at how wet she is. She bites Bernie’s lower lip, smiles at the moan she receives for her efforts, and slowly, curls her fingers into the silkiest, wettest heat imaginable. She thinks a little deliriously that she must be a lot gayer than initially thought, because this is amazing. She watches Bernie’s face carefully, scans for any discomfort, learns what makes her whimper, and soon she finds a rhythm that has Bernie mewling and gasping. She could do this for hours, she thinks with a blinding smile. This is what she has been put on earth to do. When Bernie comes, eyes shut and groaning, Serena can only gasp at how beautiful she looks, at how wonderful it is to feel her fluttering against her fingers. Bernie collapses on top of her, breathless. 

“Jesus, Serena,” she manages to say. 

And that pretty much sums it up. Serena feels the smuggest she’s ever been, because look at what she’s done. Bernie is humming in her neck, boneless and happy, all thanks to her. She fights to keep her eyes open, but all the tension and angst of the past weeks are catching up to her, and they fall asleep without another word. 

 

When she opens her eyes the next morning, Serena smiles and chuckles, because Bernie is looking at her silently. 

“I must look a fright, I didn’t take my make up off last night,” Serena complains with a frown. 

Bernie leans forwards and kisses her, morning breath and all. 

“You look beautiful. You always do,” Bernie says with such certainty that Serena believes her. 

“And you, Major, are a charmer. You deserve…” Serena trails off because she has just looked down at herself. 

She is covered in bruises and hickeys and god knows what else. Bernie smiles and then laughs that great goose laugh of hers. The sheet shifts and Serena can see she’s pretty much the same. 

“We certainly did a number on each other,” Serena guffaws, her eyes sparkling with joy. 

 

So happy she is in her little bubble of happiness and love, that Serena has forgotten about Ric. Ric who is sitting at a table for three, obviously waiting for them to have breakfast. Serena can see the knowing smirk on his face as soon as they enter the room. 

“Morning, ladies!” He says with a wide smile. 

“Well, well, someone’s in a good mood,” Bernie replies as they sit down. 

“Yes, Ric, talked a little more about the NHS last night?” Serena asks with a grin. 

Ric chuckles and leans forward, a conspiratorial look on his face. Serena leans forward too, eager to hear if Ric has moved on from Francoise. 

“No, but I heard you two talk about it all night,” he whispers with a raised eyebrow.

Serena chokes on her coffee. Bernie sits back in her chair, blushing hard. 

“And some very interesting points you made, you woke me up,” Ric continues, obviously loving this. 

Serena can see Bernie bristle at the corner of her eye, so she puts a warning hand on her thigh. Ric means well. Ric is one of her best friends. He just needs a little reminder of who he is talking to. 

“Yes, well, Bernie is a very skilled debater, Ric. She knows the subject inside and out. Talked about it in…great length.” Serena drawls. 

Ric clears his throat, his wide eyes. Bernie looks like she’s two seconds away from a heart attack. 

“And I won’t mention the passion of her arguments, nor the extra special care she took to make me…see the light,” Serena continues. 

She rubs the back of her neck and her blouse falls a bit to the side. Ric’s eyes get even bigger, which means he’s seen the bruise on her shoulder. She smiles. She leans forward, makes sure she has Ric’s undivided attention. 

“Best. Orgasms. Ever,” she mouths very distinctly with a raised eyebrow and a wicked look. 

She sees Bernie’s mouth drop and hears a little mortified squeak and Ric chokes on his tea. Very happy with that effect, Serena leans back and crosses her arms on her chest, a smirk of her own playing on her lips. Take that Ric Griffin, she thinks, delighted. 

“Right, well, brilliant, well done…on that, uh, must go, got to pack and all that,” Ric mumbles as he scrambles to leave the room. 

“Remind me never to cross you, Fraulein,” Bernie says with a chuckle, mortification having clearly given way to smugness. 

Serena tightens her hold on Bernie’s thigh, laughs, and winks, which seems to fluster Bernie greatly. 

“Maybe we could get these to go? We don’t have to check out until 11,” Bernie says with smouldering eyes. 

“Lead the way, Major.”

 

When Ric gets to work the following Monday, he finds a bottle of the finest Lagavulin on his desk with a post-it on the label. It says “For Cupid”.


End file.
